“See that one cheerleader, the red head? I banged her.” ~ finis ~

     “Nazino?” — he stumbled back a step, incredulous — “But I’m on your side, remember?”

     Bored, she asked, “So. Feel like going out, maybe getting a burger or something?”      He raked her with his eyes. “A burger?” he spat. “What do I look like, a fucking Rockefeller?” ~ finis ~

     “Don’t look at me. I invested in a standalone chest freezer and a pump-action shotgun.” ~ finis ~

     “Um, those are my naughty bits you’re touching there, mister.”      He smiled. “Yes.”      “Okay,” she said, adjusting her legs. “Just so’s we’re clear…”                     ~ finis ~

      “Dude. You’re wearing my shoes.”       “Fine. Whatever. Fucking capitalist.“

“Nineteen spicy chicken sandwiches, yes.  And a six-piece McNuggets.”

“So.  Guess these blokes never saw Lawrence of Arabia, then.”

“Ow, fuck!  Jesus!” *

Sounds fascinating. But were it me, I would have called it, say, “micro-“ or “nano-“ fiction. Rebel that I am. (h/t LMC)